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My sister, the widow, is doing her best to cope with Don Edward Boles buying the farm. Some family members are doing their best to protect my sister’s feelings. They don’t want her to feel any more pain.

My sister is doing her best to protect her mother-in-law’s feelings. My sister does not want Don’s mother to have more pain over her son’s death.

My father’s mother lived until she was 97. She developed stomach cancer when she was 96. My father did not want to tell her that she had stomach cancer because he wanted to protect her feelings.

My grandmother lived through two world wars. She lived through the Depression. Three of her eight children died while they were still children. She survived a kitchen fire when the doctors said that she would not make it. She saw her brother run over and killed by a horse and buggy. And my father felt that she could not handle the news that she had stomach cancer. He never told her.

Please don’t protect me from feelings. I need to feel, to experience, to learn and grow. I also know that there is love and support if I feel overwhelmed. Thank you.

There ought to be a law that women cannot become widows until they are 113 years of age or older. After a woman reaches 113, she is entitled to become a widow and may legally murder her husband if he doesn’t die naturally.

My sister, my younger sister, my baby sister, became a widow yesterday. She is far too young to be a widow, but she did not have a choice because of her husband’s sudden interest in agriculture: he bought the farm.

Don Edward Boles, my brother-in-law, was healthy. He gave up smoking 15 years ago. He still enjoyed expensive liquor in moderation. He had not been to a doctor for 7 years.

Don wasn’t feeling well the past week. My sister finally convinced him to go for a checkup. Don went on Monday February 5. The doctor said that Don likely had the flu. Don’s blood pressure was fine, but the other test results had not come back yet.

Tuesday and Wednesday, Don’s nausea and dizziness got worse. He refused to go back to the doctor. “I’ll be alright,” said Don.

By Wednesday evening, Don was feeling better when he went to bed.

On Thursday February 8, Don got up at 7:00 a.m., and was farming by 7:40.

I never thought about Don dying. I thought about my brother and sisters dying since friends were slowly losing their brothers and sisters. I thought my brother or older sister would die first. And after they had gone, then I would die leaving my younger sister to die last. But since Don died, I no longer think that death will come in the order I suggested. It could, but my younger sister, the widow, could die first. And then my older sister or brother could die and then me. Who knows? Who the hell knows?

I couldn’t write because it was so cold my pencils froze. Is that an acceptable excuse?

The good thing about sub-zero temperatures is when the temperature goes up. Today the temperature went up to just above zero Celsius (32 Fahrenheit). Wow! What a heat wave! Zero Celsius is a heat wave compared to -35 Celsius (-31 Fahrenheit).

During the cold spell, I went to my high-school friend’s funeral. He had shed his mortal coil before Christmas, but the funeral was not until January 6.

(I have noticed a relationship between death and funerals. Almost every time someone dies, there is a funeral. This isn’t a coincidence.)

My friend’s funeral was mostly nice, but the presiding minister ruined the mood by carrying on and on and on. This is common for religious leaders to use a funeral as an opportunity to preach to the heathen. Why can’t these religious leaders realize that funerals are about the deceased and not about God? People come to honor the deceased. They do not come to hear how great God is, or how they better accept Jesus as their savior or else it’s Hell for Eternity.

My friend was the star of the show with God and Jesus having supporting roles. But the minister ruined the show by making God and Jesus stars and giving my friend a supporting role. The funeral was upbeat and moving with several people speaking words from their hearts. Some read from The Bible. Amongst the speakers were my friend’s son and daughter who gave a wonderful loving tribute to their father. What a positive note the funeral would have ended on if it had ended after the son and daughter’s tribute. Nope. The minister started preaching about God and Jesus and God and Jesus and God and Jesus blah, blah, blah . . . She had forgotten that people had come not to be preached at.

And while the minister went on and on and on, I wondered whether my friend was watching from above and thinking, “Is she going to stop soon?”

(I would have posted this blog yesterday, but the Toronto Public Library’s Internet had not thawed out from the cold snap.)

They asked why I wanted to die in the Fall, and wanted me to clarify the ambiguity of “leaving the world laughing.”

I’m sure I have blogged before about why I want to die in the Fall. I have a habit of repeating myself since my memory retired. Did I mention that I have a habit of repeating myself? But I can justify this incidence of repetition because my friends asked.

Besides being the opposite of Spring, in which I was born, Fall is beautiful with the leaves changing colors. But the beauty of the changing colors is because the trees are preparing for Winter, and have cut off chlorophyll going to the leaves. The leaves are changing colors while they are dying. What a glorious death!

I doubt whether I will turn such beautiful colors as I die, but I can pretend to do so by dying in the Fall.

. . . I will leave this world laughing.

As for the ambiguity in the ending of yesterday’s blog my friends asked, “Will you make the world laugh before you die, or will you be laughing when you die?”

My high-school buddy with cancer is heavily sedated. He spends a lot of time sleeping. When he is awake he is too weak to talk. A miracle would go good now.

What dreams or visions is he having? I’d love to know.

I have mentioned before that when it is my time to die, I will die in the Fall. I was born in the Spring and I will die in the Fall. Of course, Life may have other plans about when it leaves my body. I will have to go along with Life’s plans.

It is also worth repeating that I came into this world crying because I was young and did not know better. Now I am older. Now I am wiser. I will leave this world laughing.

My power of attorney is done. My will is done. Am I ready to die? I’m not planning on it, but you never know. I could go to a doctor for some reason, and he or she could kill me—accidentally of course. Or I could get hit by a truck delivering health food. Or I could perform standup comedy and die on stage. Who knows?

Death fascinates me. I love walking through cemeteries, reading the residents’ tombstones, and reflecting on their lives. What were their concerns? What made them happy? What made them sad? Did they know that a tombstone would grow after they were planted? Did they know that one day, long after they were gone, someone would be reflecting on their lives?

I want to be planted so a tombstone will grow. I like the idea of someone reflecting on my life long after I am gone.

When I was in my teens, I played with a Ouija board. The Ouija board said that I would die during the first week of August in 2018. If the Ouija board is right, then I have just over a year left. Am I worried? Not yet, but ask me again on July 31, 2018.

The speaker was Adam. That’s not his real name. Adam is married to Eve. That’s not her real name. I have known Adam and Eve since they were kicked out of The Garden.

Adam and Eve have often invited me to their place for dinner. I have avoided going because I get into my hermit mode and do not socialize. So it’s nothing against Adam and Eve when I turn down their dinner invitations.

This past Wednesday I had a business appointment with Adam. Adam offered to drive me back to the library after our appointment, but needed to stop briefly by his house on the way.

“Would you like to come in and say hello to Eve?” asked Adam when we stopped at his house.

“Sure,” I said.

I had no plans to stay, but once inside Adam and Eve and I started talking. What a wonderful conversation! It lasted through dinner and afterward. We talked about life, death, God and religion. What else would you talk about around Adam and Eve? I would have missed this delightful evening if Adam did not have to stop at his home.

Adam and Eve are kind and generous. All who know them are blessed. Even God regrets kicking them out of The Garden. I am grateful for their friendship.